


the Pipe - One-shot

by raccodactyl



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Feelings, Fluff, a lil cheesy, but cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 17:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18579556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raccodactyl/pseuds/raccodactyl
Summary: Request:  Hey! Can I request a Dutch x fem!reader where she heard Dutch speaking with Arthur about his beloved pipe so she decides to go to get him a new one that is no other than Bronte’s pipe. After what happened to the ball, seeing him so humiliated and sad broke her heart so she just avenges him. Seeing this display of loyality and love Dutch gets so overwhelmed that just kiss her in front of everyone and confessing his love for her. Just a little fluff for ol’ good Dutch.Summary: Dutch’s pipe turns up broken and what better way to make him feel better than to steal a new one from Bronte.





	the Pipe - One-shot

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr 26 February

Dutch sat solemnly in his tent, fiddling with something in his hands that you couldn’t quite tell what. You and Dutch had grown quite close, it seemed everyone was aware of the two of you being not-quite together as Dutch wasn’t the subtle type. He always liked to be close to you and if he wasn’t, he was certainly staring at you from across the way.

You approached him, sitting next to him on his bed, “What’s got you down,” you asked.

“Nothing too serious,” he sighed, “Bill sat on my damn pipe is all.”

He opened his hands to show you the pipe slit into three pieces, shattered in a way that couldn’t be fixed. “That’s a real shame.”

“I’ll survive,” he said with another sad sigh, “Just gotta watch wwhereI set things down, I guess.”

“I’m sorry, Dutch.”

“It’s not you that did it,” he teased, “No reason to apologize.”

You smiled back at him and gave him a little pat on the back before leaving the tent. You sat beside a tree in the grass, looking over Flat Iron Lake when the idea popped in your head.

Steal Bronte’s pipe.

Dutch didn’t do particularly well after the ball and the hatred for that man was boiling and what better way to get back at him than to have Dutch smoke out of his pipe. You’d need to be sneaky about it, but that was your specialty.  _This is gonna be fun._

You got yourself dressed up in the best clothes you had laying around, nothing particularly fancy, but enough to get you to pass off well enough in Saint Denis. You neaded to be mobile enough for a quick escape so you slipped on a pair of pants Sadie had given you. All you needed to do was get in and out of Bronte’s office and distract him enough to not only get him out of his chair, but pocket his pipe.

You got on your horse, giving a short farewell to Charles who was standing guard and heading east towards Saint Denis. The thick heat was practically unbearable.  _How the hell do people live down here,_ you thought to yourself.

You hitched your horse outside of Bronte’s mansion and approached the intimidating gate only for one of the younger guards to approach you, “What is your business here, ma’am?”

“I just wish to speak to your boss,” you said with a smile. “Heard he might need an extra hand with some jobs around the city.”

“I don’t know if you’re cut out for the type of work he is offering, ma’am.”

“Oh, honey,” you said in a condescending tone, “I can assure you I am plenty competent.”

The boy couldn’t have just hit twenty years old, and based on how easily he was intimidated, you could tell he didn’t have this job long. He opened the gate and lead you up towards Bronte’s office only to be stopped by one of the older men.

They began to argue in a language you had barely heard before, bickering back and forth and you assumed they were disciplining the young guard for letting you pass, but the yelling was soon cut off by a loud, powerful voice, “Quiet! Let the woman pass.”

The man stood at the sides of the door frame and you were met with the infamous Angelo Bronte in his usual fancy robe, “My only wish is for you to set your weapons on the table.”

You pulled your hunting knife out of its holster and set it down, “Only thing I’m carrying, sir.”

“Very well.” He said something in Italian once again, you assuming it was something along the lines of ‘clear out’ or ‘fuck off’ based on the way he said it. The guards cleared out of the room.

“Sit down, please,” he gestured toward the couches.

You sat down, still sitting up fully, “Do you drink?”

“Sure,” you answered back, subtly scanning the room for the pipe only to see it sitting on the bar cart. “I’ll pour.”

“Nonsense, I’ll get you settled.”

You stood up before he could, giving him a charming smile, “I don’t mind sir. What’s your drink of choice?”

“Rum,” he answered quickly and you began to pour the drink. “Now, pardon me for being forward, but what exactly is your business here?”

“I’m a worker of sorts,” you answered, “Wanted to see if you had any jobs available. Bit of a ‘gunslinger,’ as they call it.”

You handed him his glass before pouring a small glass of whiskey for youself. He took a sip, tilting his head back, and in that moment, you quickly and quietly shoved the pipe down your shirt.

“A gunslinger,” he said back in a surprised tone. “Would never have expected that out of a lady such as yourself. Guess that explains the trousers then.”

“You bet,” you laughed back, trying your best to seem natural. “Any type of loose ends you need tied up, I will happily help out.”

“You know, I think I might have something,” he said before digging into his drawers. He grabbed an ink pen and a scrap piece of paper before quickly writing down a name and location.

“This man has been a real pest around my city. You return him to my office and you will be paid handsomely,” he said darkly.

“Sure thing, sir,” you said before folding the paper and slipping it into your pocket. You finished the last sip of your drink and set the empty glass on the table before standing up once again. “I won’t keep you. Thank you for the job, sir.”

“Sure thing,” he smiled. “Your name, though, I did not catch it.”

“Alice O’Malley,” you smiled back before heading straight out the door.

You waled down the grand stair case and straight out the front door, beeming with pride at just how smoothly things went over. You unhitched your horse and gave a nod to the guards before saddling up and heading back west through the bayou towards Rhodes. Once out of sight, you slipped the pipe from your shirt and tucked it into your saddle bag.

Your stopped at the general store in Rhodes to buy some more tobacco and matches for him, taking a little box and twine as well. You headed outside and grabbed the pipe from your bag before arranging the items as neatly as you could. You tied the twine around the box and held onto it tight as you made the short ride back to camp.

You got off your horse near the others before heading over to where Dutch sat at one of the tables, “Where have you been all day?”

“Unimportant,” you smiled, “But I brought a little something back for you.”

You sat the little box in front of him before sitting down adjacent to him and he gave you a questioning glare. “Go on, open it.”

He slowly unwraveled the thin rope before slipping the top off of the box, revealing the expensive pipe and accessories you bought for him. He looked shocked, but in a good way.

“Do you like it,” you asked quickly.

“Where did you get this,” he asked, his tone still unreadable as he gently stroked the side of the pipe.

“Straight out the office of Angelo fuckin’ Bronte,” you grinned, biting at your lip slightly.

He stood up without saying anything and set the pipe back into the box. He grabbed your hand to lead you to stand up as well and you felt uncomfortably vulnerable in the centre of the camp without knowing what he was thinking about your admittedly risky action. The intensity was palpable, feeling the eyes of fellow members falling on you.  

“What are you doing, Dutch?”

He took his hat off and set it on the table before looking back at you intensely. Without warning, you found his lips pressed to yours. You were taken aback, freezing against his touch, and he pulled back after just a moment.

You collected yourself, looking into his deep brown eyes, and for the first time ever, you saw Dutch looking scared about a response. You movedd your hand to his jaw before moving onto your tip-toes and pulling him closer, pressing your lips to his. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you waist and you moved your hand to gently grab at his curls.

He pulled away, a new gleam in his eyes, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Me too,” you whispered back.

He grabbed the pipe from the table and held it tight in his hands, “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“It’s really just a pipe, Dutch.”

“It’s far, far more than just a pipe, my dear,” he said as he brushed his hair back behind your ear. “I need you to know one thing, right now. I am absolutely, unapologetically in love you with you, Y/N… Have been for a long time.”

“Oh, Dutch,” you grinned, “I love you so.”

You gave him another sweet kiss before pulling away. He sat down and pulled you into his lap. “Let’s get to smoking this thing, hmm,” he said before he began to pack the bowl of the pipe.


End file.
